The New Patagonia
I stop reading my book to type this short blog entry because of the juxtaposition that has just presented itself. And that's what Patagonia has offered me so far; it is a land of ephemeral contrasts.
I sit in the warmth of my beautifully wooden cabin hostel with a plaster over my finger which I cut on a tin of canned fruit cocktail - I'm fine but I read about Madsen breaking his collarbone and surviving on his own for six months in soltitude. I lie back on a comfortable sofa and I read about Madsen learning to sleep on his footwear to stop them from freezing over night.
Suddenly the TV blinks into life and a couple joins me in this little corner of the hostel to tune in.
The word <<vivo>> "live" is in the top corner of the screen and the words Sydney are at the bottom of the tennis court where a professional throws his hand back and smashes a tennis ball across the blue court to his opponent who stands no chance.
The wider world that took 6 months to arrive to Madsen now takes less than a fraction of a second; these are the changes of distance time in only a century.
I'm taken from the world of Andreas Madsen and his endless feat of endeavours in the old Patagonia and realise where I am now; firmly in the new Patagonia, and for a second we are at the other side of the Pacific, in Australia - where it is already tomorrow.
Sydney 1.30pm Sunday 6th January 2019
El Calafate 11.30pm Saturday 5th January 2019
I sit in the warmth of my beautifully wooden cabin hostel with a plaster over my finger which I cut on a tin of canned fruit cocktail - I'm fine but I read about Madsen breaking his collarbone and surviving on his own for six months in soltitude. I lie back on a comfortable sofa and I read about Madsen learning to sleep on his footwear to stop them from freezing over night.
Suddenly the TV blinks into life and a couple joins me in this little corner of the hostel to tune in.
The word <<vivo>> "live" is in the top corner of the screen and the words Sydney are at the bottom of the tennis court where a professional throws his hand back and smashes a tennis ball across the blue court to his opponent who stands no chance.
The wider world that took 6 months to arrive to Madsen now takes less than a fraction of a second; these are the changes of distance time in only a century.
I'm taken from the world of Andreas Madsen and his endless feat of endeavours in the old Patagonia and realise where I am now; firmly in the new Patagonia, and for a second we are at the other side of the Pacific, in Australia - where it is already tomorrow.
Fragment of Norwegian newspaper found in the walls of Andres Madson's house in El Chalten. It would have taken months to arrive to this tiny corner of the world.
El Calafate 11.30pm Saturday 5th January 2019
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